


Knock, Knock, Knocking

by subtlegods



Series: New York City [1]
Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Exes, F/M, Goodbyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 05:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15089738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlegods/pseuds/subtlegods
Summary: Gabriella Montez & Troy Bolton meet again at a later time in life. Or, the one in which they are next door neighbors, and things get ugly.





	Knock, Knock, Knocking

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoy this one shot! I appreciate comments, suggestions, and feedback, so don't hesitate to send those in! 
> 
> Again, if you read this, thank you so much! It means so much to me that you would take the time to read my work!
> 
> I might make a Troy Bolton edition of this if it goes well, so let me know what you think!

The apartment was small, but it was a good space that Gabriella Montez could turn into her own. She filled it with wonder, with magic and mishap. For a girl who had moved around so much, she knew how to turn a room into a home. Or, perhaps, it was because she’d moved around so much that she knew. She wrote notes on the walls, put up picture frames and photographs, placed flowers on the table to brighten up the space. If she hadn’t lacked the stability so much when she was younger, perhaps she’d be any other lonely twenty-five year old in New York.

That was the truth though, if she chose to believe it. Here she was, a graduate from Stanford University, with a pre-law degree to brag about and latin honors to parade, but she was lonely. Gabriella Montez had always been used to the loneliness, though. She had always been used to strangers and strange faces, to never knowing where she was going to be next. But, now that she’d finally settled down in New York, she wanted to make something for herself. She no longer wanted loneliness to be her only safehouse.

If she was going to be lonely, she was going to be lonely with an apartment unit that truly felt like home.

For a moment, it felt right. For a moment, as she entered her apartment unit with hot Chinese food in a paper bag and a smile on her lips, it did  _ truly _ feel like home. Her mother would be proud of her, Gabriella knew. The woman always did look upon Gabriella with wonder-filled eyes, but Gabriella knew now she would be proud not simply for what her daughter had accomplished, but also for the happiness her daughter felt.

At the end of the day, Gabriella  _ was _ happy. Or, at least, in her home away from home, in her little space, in all the loneliness that she embodied, she tried to be.

*

In the next few days, Gabriella would notice the routine her next door neighbor had. It wasn’t so much because she cared, but more because the loud thumps and unruly moans that came from his apartment were impossible to bear. The walls between apartment units were thin, and she’d noticed this soon enough when night after night, the same thing happened.

_ When Marimba Rhythm starts to play _ _   
_ _ Dance with me, make me sway _

It was always the same song. There was reason to this that Gabriella had figured out: the song did the trick. For  _ whatever  _ reason, the song always set the mood. She could only imagine if her neighbors swayed with the women he brought over, or if he danced them to the beat of the music, but she knew well enough that  _ he _ knew the song would work. Every damn time. Every single night.

_ Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore _ _   
_ _ Hold me close, sway me more _

The details of what went on behind closed doors were not something that Gabriella wanted to decipher. How her neighbor and his women got to where they were, or how they struggled between the sheets. How quickly it would take for them to start, and how quickly it would all end, only so to repeat the next night. She didn’t care, but she heard. She heard the unholy moans, the ungodly laughter, the cursing, and the sound of bodies against one another.

If it were anybody else, she would not have cared. Disgusted, all the same, sure. But, she’d heard the women say her neighbor’s name sometimes. They called him  _ Troy _ , and for some reason, the name hurt more than it was supposed to.

*

“I can’t do this anymore, Troy,” Gabriella said. Her voice was a wavering thing, hoping not to cry because she knew that she would take it all back in a heartbeat if she did. “We can’t keep trying to keep up with the distance, with the space.” Perhaps, her only consolation was that Troy was on the other end of the phone instead of the other end of the table. Gabriella wouldn’t know what to do if she could see the look on his face.

Miles away, Troy Bolton furrowed his eyebrows and placed two fingers on his forehead. As if it would make his head hurt any less. As if it would make all this ache cease. “Gabriella,” he pleaded, “we can make this work. I know we can.”

She shook her head, though he couldn’t see. “At what cost? You, missing your classes because you stayed up too late driving home? Me, unable to sleep because I don’t know if you’re home safe?” Her tone rose with concern. “We can’t keep doing this, Wildcat. I love you,  _ so much _ , but it’s too much. It’s too much.”

“Gabriella,  _ please _ .” Troy’s voice broke, and he didn’t care at all about how desperate he sounded. “ _ Please _ .”

Tears fell from Gabriella’s eyes, though there was little she could do. They were college students, young and free and hopeful. How could Troy be all these things, when she was rooting him down to her? “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s for the best. I’m sorry.”

*

Tonight, the memory of their break up felt more vivid than ever. Tonight, Gabriella Montez was an aching thing, and her chest, a bomb. She had never been a wild one, but Troy had been, once. And, in those days, she hadn’t ever wanted to tie him down to something he might regret. To something so temporary such as herself. To somebody like her.

Gabriella Montez had never been anybody’s home, but Troy Bolton had been hers. Didn’t she always long for a place to call hers, and only hers? Hadn’t she always yearned to mark her name on somebody, on something, on anything? Was it not pitiful that she knew, in the end, goodbyes were always the only choice?

She’d loved him with a love greater than her entire heart, and yet she had chosen to let go. It wasn’t that she had wanted to, but that she had to.

Tonight, her neighbor on the other side was quiet, too. Almost as if he knew not to intervene with the sadness of Gabriella’s heart. Almost as if he felt it, too.

*

The next nights would not be so lucky for Gabriella. If anything, they were louder for the man living beside her.

*

When Gabriella finally found the courage --- or, perhaps, found herself annoyed enough ---, to knock on the man’s door, it was a Friday. The night was young, but she’d come from a long day at work and was tired in more ways than she could imagine. When the thumping began to start, she had tried to place a pillow over her head to drown it out. She’d  _ tried _ , really. She  _ really, really  _ did.

But, his name would be on the woman’s lips over and over and over.  _ Troy, Troy, Troy _ .

**Troy.** How much her heart ached at the mere mention of the name.

And so, Gabriella would stand up, knock on the man’s door, bringing hell and fury with her. Her knocks were a loud rap, unyielding and just as tired as she was. A moment would pass before the door was opened for her, and revealed a young blonde in nothing but a bathrobe.

“What can I do for you?”

Gabriella would roll her eyes at this, as if it wasn’t  _ already _ obvious. “Could you  _ please _ turn all your noise down? I am  _ trying  _ to sleep! It’s been a  _ long, long  _ day, so if you could just---”

The man’s voice would break through Gabriella’s sentences, and foot steps would signal his approach. “---Babe,” he called, “who is it?”

Then, he would come to the light. And she would see him, all in his glory. She would see him, and know who he was. She would see him and recognize the way his face lit up at the sight of her, and remember the way his eyes felt on hers, and hurt at the sight of him and at the thought of him being so close. She would see him, and her world would crumble.

“ _ Troy _ ,” Gabriella said. She hated herself for sounding like an eighteen year old again, for sounding like one of the women he brought home. “It’s---  _ oh _ .”

For once, Troy could not find it in himself to give a smug smile. Instead, he said her name in return. “Gabriella.” It felt like coming home.

*

That night was a blur, and so were the next few days. Gabriella Montez was always so sure of herself, of what she knew she could do and what she did, but she found herself avoiding the hallways in uncertainty after the incident. After running into him like that. After seeing the ghost of him come back to life.

*   


The next Friday night, a knock would rattle Gabriella. She was hunched over a couple of papers, as opposed to out partying like any other twenty-something year old in New York. She had work to do, and hadn’t been expecting anybody. Not even her across-the-hall neighbor, a kind old woman who baked her cookies, would knock in the middle of the night to give her baked goods.

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t him.

But, she would open the door to find Troy Bolton on the other side. His face, an ache in her chest. His sight, a punch to the gut. He was as beautiful as ever, even with age. She blinked at him, mouth agape.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, with a tone that could make even  _ herself  _ believe she didn’t want him there.

Troy winced, but he tilted his head. “Remember that night? Senior year. I brought you pizza, and chocolate-covered strawberries. You said you meant good night when you said goodbye.” He paused. “You meant goodbye, didn’t you?”

Gabriella flinched at the accusation. She wasn’t ready for this. Her heart hadn’t been pried opened this way since she’d broken up with him. “What are you talking about?” she said in response. “That… was years ago.”

“But you meant goodbye, didn’t you? You always meant to say goodbye. You knew you were going to end things before they were even over. You knew.”

“I  _ didn’t _ ,” Gabriella replied, “and for you to come knock on my door and accuse me of it is, frankly, rude.”

Troy breathed a deep sigh. “You always found a way to say goodbye, Gabriella. Even when there was no need to.” He paused. “I could’ve loved you forever.”

*

In some ways --- more than Gabriella wanted to admit ---, Troy was right. She did find ways to say goodbye, even when goodbyes were unnecessary. And, maybe that was her fault. Maybe it was her fault for cutting to the chase, for ending things before their time came. She couldn’t admit it to herself right now, though. She couldn’t bring herself to think about it.

Yet, she was doing exactly what was expected of her: packing her bags, leaving, saying goodbye.

Only, this time, she didn’t actually need to say goodbye. There was nobody to say goodbye to, as Troy had already made up his mind about her.

He would’ve seen this coming. 


End file.
